


Cootie Catcher

by scheherezhad



Series: Receipts [2]
Category: Hustle Cat (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fortune Telling, M/M, Pre-Canon, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherezhad/pseuds/scheherezhad
Summary: It's just a stupid scrap of blank paper. It can't tell him shit about him and Graves.





	Cootie Catcher

**Author's Note:**

> This was a WIP for an absurdly long time, but when I decided to do my Nacht-tober 2018 drabbles, I thought it'd be nice to put out a longer piece on his birthday (given by the game's creator [here](http://mineraloid.tumblr.com/post/141699661685/hello-there-i-played-hustle-cat-and-loved-it-to) as October 23). I used a prompt line from [here](https://mouserzwuzhere.tumblr.com/post/131070692019/101-drabble-prompts) to help myself get unstuck and finish it up.

Nacht has an itch. It's been sitting deep in the back of his mind for the past few weeks, since the last time Graves got pissed off and broke up with him. They've barely seen each other outside of rehearsals and a couple of shows they've done. They haven't been alone together in too long, and Nacht wants to patch it up. He needs to feel Graves under his hands again, needs to wreck him and remind him that no one else ever makes him feel that way.

He's tried calling Graves's room a few times tonight, but no answer. None of the good clubs do events on Tuesdays, so he's probably not out dancing, which means he's gotta be at The Brew. Not Nacht's first choice of location for what he wants to do, but if he doesn't see Graves soon, he's gonna go postal.

By the time he makes it to the coffee shop, Nacht is ready to climb out of his skin. He buys himself a Coke so the baristas won't get pissy about him "loitering," and he looks for familiar faces. There's no one he knows inside, but out on the patio, he sees Lance and Amira at one of the picnic tables with their friend Shae. If Graves isn't with them, they'll know where he is. When he gets closer to the table, though, he sees long legs in black pants stretched along the bench on the far side, and he'd know that pair of painted Docs anywhere.

Graves is lying on the bench, his head on Shae's lap, and Nacht burns. He snags a chair from a table nearby and plants it at the head of the picnic table between Graves and Amira, propping one foot on the bench, right between Graves's knees.

"Fancy seeing y'all here."

Lance smiles a little and returns the greeting. "Hey, Nacht."

Amira and Shae both offer a half-hearted, "hi."

Graves just ignores him. It's real deliberate, though, the kind of ignoring that wants you to notice it's happening. It's almost as good as being paid attention to.

"So what're we up to?" Nacht asks, settling back in his chair and taking a long draw of his pop.

"Oh, not much," Lance says, fingers ruffling the pages of the sketchbook in front of him. "Just talking, mostly. Amira is doing readings for people."

Nacht hadn't given much notice to her stuff spread out over the table, not concerned with anything else after he spotted Graves. But yeah, she's got a dark blue cloth spread over the wood, and a bunch of little velvet pouches arranged around it so she can get to all her fortune telling shit. She's not a witch, but she probably is a legit psychic, as freaky accurate as her divinations are. People are always coming to her for readings, and they pay pretty well for starving art students.

She's got a tarot spread on the cloth right now, and she's writing in a notebook. "This one's almost done. Anybody else want one before I wrap up?" she asks, eyes flicking to Nacht for a second. "Going once, going twice."

"Maybe later," Shae says. Eir hands are in Graves's hair, and Nacht has to concentrate on not crushing his cup in his hand. "One of my film classmates got ahold of some new anime bootlegs, and she gets off work soon, so I'm gonna go check em out."

"No, thank you," Graves says lazily.

Amira looks to her left. "Lance?"

"I'm good, babe."

"Then you can deliver this to JT for me." She rips the sheet of paper she was writing on out of her notebook, folds it up, and hands it to Lance. "Red hair, purple shirt."

"Sure. Need anything else while I'm up?"

"Another latte would be good."

Lance leans down and kisses her forehead. "Got it. I'll be back."

Shae checks eir watch and pats Graves on the shoulder. "I have to go meet Chrissy. You coming?"

"Isn't her roommate the one who looks like the lovechild of Debbie Harry and Siouxsie Sioux?" Graves asks, hands tracing out some shape in the air like that makes his question clearer.

"Oh, Lavra? Yeah. She's probably studying in their room."

Graves sits up and flips his hair over his shoulder. "I'll go. She has some old Alien Sex Fiend cassettes I want to borrow." He still doesn't acknowledge Nacht, not even to kick his foot out of the way when Graves swings his leg over the bench to stand up.

Amira flicks Nacht on the shoulder, distracting him from grinding his teeth. "What about you? Looks like you could use some fresh perspective."

"Knock yourself out," he says with a shrug.

She hovers one hand over her tools, trying to choose the right one for him. Her other hand rests on the roundness of her belly. Nacht feels the ghost of a jealous twinge. He's mostly gotten past it by now, but he can't help that touch of bitterness that he'll never get that with Graves. There'll never be a person on this earth who's a little bit of both of them.

Amira passes over her runes and her decks, frowning as she runs her hand above them again. She rubs her stomach and reaches for a little case at the edge of the cloth. When she opens it, there's nothing inside but a blank rectangle of paper. Nacht sits up a little in his chair. This is the fucking freaky one. Amira doesn't pull this out often, and it's the stuff of legend on campus.

Her hands deftly pop the little thing into shape, fingers slipping up into it, and she presents the top of the unmarked cootie catcher to him. "Pick."

He warily points to one of the squares, and she flicks the things a few times, then holds it out to him again. He picks one of the triangles on the inside. She moves it again, lips forming sounds he can't make out, and she makes him choose again, then does it all once more. Amira flips up the triangle and lets her eyes go unfocused as she stares at the dense field of random-looking scribbles on the underside of it.

"There's no growth," she mumbles. "You think it's so simple, but there are things you don't see. It won't grow…"

"The fuck are you talking about?" he snarls.

"Graves, and you," she says, focus returning to the present. She puts the cootie catcher back in its case and starts to shove all her little velvet pouches into her messenger bag. "You're ignoring something obvious because you think it'll all work itself out, but it won't. Both of you need to sort out your shit, or you won't be able to move forward -- you're just going to be stuck running in these same circles and annoying the rest of us."

Lance comes back to the table with a coffee and a twenty in his hand. "Decaf latte for my love," he says, setting the cup down by Amira, "and JT says thank you."

She takes the money and tucks it into a pocket of her bag before zipping the top shut. "Thanks, babe."

"Something wrong, Nacht?" Lance asks, catching the tension in him.

"It ain't nothin," Nacht grunts.

"The fortune teller chose him, and he doesn't like what it told him," Amira says, not any happier about it than he is.

Lance's eyes widen. "Look, man, I know it's hard to swallow if it told you something you didn't want to hear, but I've never seen that thing be wrong."

"Excuse me if I don't believe your psychic girlfriend." Nacht slams his half-empty cup on the table top and stands up.

"You don't have to believe the truth for it to be true," Amira snaps. "Cut your losses and move on."

"Whatever," Nacht says, turning to leave. "See you around."

She's fucking lying. He doesn't care about the goddamn fortune teller -- it's just a stupid scrap of blank paper, and he could've magicked it to shreds in her hands -- but he can't deny that what she said dug into his weak spots.

He shakes his head once, hard, as he stalks back down the street toward campus. Graves is meant for him. He's sure of it.


End file.
